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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952994">Ballroom Eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weav/pseuds/Weav'>Weav</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Los Casagrandes (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Ballet, F/M, Humor, Romance, Seduction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:29:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weav/pseuds/Weav</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Carl Casagrande can be a little uncooperative. Adelaide Chang, however, doesn’t mind at all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adelaide Chang/Carlino Casagrande</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ballroom Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sundays, in Carl Casagrande’s opinion, were the sacred cow of the week. Not because of church or whatever, but because it was a long-standing miracle of almost universal human generosity. Almost everyone agreed that Sundays were meant for R&amp;R, a last piece of sweet reprieve before responsibility came a-knocking on Monday morning like a pissed off landlord looking for overdue rent. Everyone was a little less surly, a little less demanding, and a lot more chill. Even the street cats were less of an asshole-y bunch.</p><p>Because, seriously, who the hell would want to make the unofficial holiday that was Sunday anything to fret about?</p><p>Adelaide Chang, apparently. </p><p></p><div>
  <p>And without an invite into his apartment, Carl added with a sour mental note as he bemoaned his not so pleasant position of sitting on his couch with his arms folded, giving his best friend the hardest glare he could dare muster against someone he truly cared for (and in ways that he wasn’t ready to fully admit to himself, let alone to Adelaide).</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But knowing her as long as he had, Carl wasn’t surprised in the slightest when instead of backing off, she dug her heels in further.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“C’mon, Carl! Pleeeeeease?!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl had to admit that this was definitely new—Adelaide wasn’t one to beg, getting on her knees and clasping her hands as if to pray, <em>and</em> pull out the cutesy voice/pouty lip combo all at once. Normally, just one of those two things alone would sucker him in (and have the unfortunate side effect of heating his cheeks up and getting that darn pitter-patter flutter in his heart to rev up and vibrate against his ribs).</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But his mind was made up. He wasn’t putting up with <em>that</em> shit again. Not after the last three times and especially not on a Sunday, for Christ’s sake. She would just have to take her pretty self and her duffel bag full of her dancing clothes with her on her way out the door.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No,” he huffed. “No way.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Pleeeeease, Carl? Pleeeeeeease?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Pleeeeease?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“<em>No</em>.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Pleeeea-“</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Forget it, Adelaide. Get Vito to do it or whatever. Leave me out of it.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“But the kids like <em>you</em>, Carl.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He snorted, his lips curling into a tighter frown at the not so distant of those little menaces, pointing at him with their snot-covered fingers and laughing with their sound barrier-breaking squeals. And because they were kids, he knew he couldn’t flip them off without getting an earful from Adelaide or the imminent rush of angry parents who would want to tear into the both of them for allowing their children to be exposed to such obscenities.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Wrong. They like to make fun of me,” he said. “Big difference.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>At that, Adelaide shot up to her feet and cast Carl her mocking smirk. Outwardly, Carl had to show face by retaining his grumpy scowl. Inwardly, he was all jitters. The lavish curve of her cute lips and smoky haze of her half-lidded eyes always made his mind and focus deviate into territory that Adelaide was sure to bite his head off for if she could peer into his brain. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He had to fight against all the signals in his nervous system that wanted his neck to crane down and gratify the slice of paradise he could just make out in his peripheral vision—slightly bending over at the waist had caused Adelaide’s loose T-shirt to slide an inch or two down her shoulders and show off the top of her chest. His hands clenched into fists when he caught a peek of the frilly white lace of her bra.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He gulped nervously, his annoyance splintered down the center by the tempting visuals. All the while, her smugness didn’t seem to budge, meaning that she hadn’t picked up on his horndog vibes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hopefully.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Seriously, Carl?” she sneered. “Are you telling me that you have such a fragile ego that you can’t take a little bit of teasing from a bunch of children for a few minutes?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl rolled his eyes, a bid partially done to point his eyes far away from trouble. “Don’t give me that crap. It’d be one thing if they didn’t have a point. But they <em>do</em>. I look ridiculous.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ridiculous” was an understatement, and he regretted that he didn’t go with “like a fucking clown” instead. After all, what else could he call himself? Not only did he have to dress up in a frilly white ballerina leotard, aka the least manly piece of apparel ever crafted, but he was tasked to deliberately go out of his way to be the “what not to do” visual demonstration of Adelaide’s lessons.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And it would always lead to him falling on his butt and having the dance studio filled with either an uproar of laughter or the needling pricks of quiet snickers bouncing off the walls before they rattled about in his skull like wayward, ricocheting tennis balls. Even Adelaide would sometimes get so wrapped up in their hysterics that she had the gall to <em>join</em> them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’d never admit it to her face at her risk of sounding like baby, but while the kids laughing annoyed him, Adelaide doing so <em>stung</em> him. Wasn’t she supposed to be on his side?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“But that’s the point,” Adelaide said, her face eliciting an obvious beam of pride at what she once described as her “teaching genius”. “You’re <em>supposed</em> to look silly so that they’re engaged in the dance lesson and they have an easier time remembering mistakes. You and I both know it works.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her assertion was a tempting invitation to challenge her on her  “teaching genius” if it required knocking her best friend’s self-esteem down several pegs to keep her class entertained, but he thought better of it. He knew this part-time ballet instructor job was important enough for Adelaide to tell him the good news of her hiring with tears of joy. Ballet was practically in her blood and this was an important first step in making a career as a professional ballerina. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Be that as it may, there were limits to how much he was willing to take on the chin for her dream, and he was hoping that it wouldn’t be too much to ask for just one day of not dealing with the jester role.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Doesn’t make it any less humiliating,” Carl muttered, sounding more dejected than defiant.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It wasn’t even much of a hard counter to her point, as much as it was just showing his hand and laying himself as bare and vulnerable as he wanted Adelaide to see. Hopefully, she could respect that and back off.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Adelaide sighed. “Alright.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl grinned...</p>
</div><div>
  <p>...but soon found out that he did so prematurely.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I suppose you’d rather watch me squander my job so you can lay about on your precious couch all day long,” she continued, the most blatant guilt-tripping demeanor ever crafted put on display—an over-the-top downcast expression followed by her slumping over and quivering her lower lip. “I guess our friendship is <em>soooooo</em> unimportant to you that a tiny sacrifice is too much to ask. Those poor kids, those poor little souls will have nothing to look forwa-“</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Could you fast forward to the end?” Carl interjected with stone-cold apathy, shifting from a seated position to a reclining one as he stared at the ceiling. “I’ve got a pretty heavy shift at the mechanic’s tomorrow and I need all the sleep I can get before I clock in at 7.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was perhaps a little harsh, but Adelaide had to have known she would get nothing but a snarky retort after such dirty theatrics. Still, he was half-expecting her to start shaking under the repression of anger, face a boiling shade of red as she struggled to keep what would’ve been a curse-laden rant on how selfish and rude he was being. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He had been on the brunt end of them a few times before, and he had to admit that her scrunched-up, mad faces were kinda cute—especially when it got so bad that her cheeks would puff up, expanding her angry blush across her creamy skin. He gave her a cursory look, just to confirm his suspicions.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He gazed upon nothing of the sort.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fine,” a very calm Adelaide said, a worrying smile donning her face.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It nearly spooked Carl out of his wits. “F-fine?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yep. Fine. I’ll leave you alone and let you spend the rest of your day <em>not</em> helping me.” She made a show of leaving as she spun on her heels, heading towards the front door—he couldn’t help but watch the pop in her backside as her hips tilted from side-to-side underneath her jeans. “And I’ll spend the rest of my day <em>not</em> giving you a surprise reward for your assistance.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He perked up, interest splitting between the sway of her butt and the intrigue of this mystery reward.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Reward?” He shot up to his feet, racing over to Adelaide and grasping her by the shoulder. “What reward?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She gazed over at his hand, then up at him with a cheeky smile that radiated “Gotcha!” from her pearly whites. That goddamn pitter-patter came back from her grin and the fact that his fingers were gently molding over her warm skin, his thumb kissing the curve of her neck. He gave it a subtle sweep without even thinking, and Carl could’ve sworn that her eyes flashed from an evil glint from that motion.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Almost as if she was winning in drawing him in, making him susceptible...<em>easy prey</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I had something special in mind just for you. You know, as a token of my appreciation for all you’ve done.” Her eyelashes batted up and down in a quick flutter, and Carl swallowed a heavy lump in his throat—she was so close, and her gaze was burning through him. “Buuuuuut since you clearly have better things to do, we’ll just forget all about i-“</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“H-hold on a sec, Adels.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His breathing nearly quickened when she spun around—his hand dragged off her shoulder, grazing her arm on the way down—and her chest brushed against his as she pressed in, her hands coming up to curl around his arms. His stomach tightened in coils, the core of it tickled as if gusts of light wind whistled against his insides.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeeeeees?” she asked, an air of coquettish delight in her voice.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl could feel blood rushing to two places, and of both areas, the one that <em>wasn’t</em> his face made him softly moan as he could feel it jab in her stomach. He prayed she didn’t notice, but couldn’t tell if she did or not beyond a pink, lucid blush that was lightly powdered under her eyes like a thin blanket of sugar.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“So...h-here’s the funny thing...” Carl sputtered, shaking as he felt Adelaide’s fingertips curling into his flesh, “uh...maybe I...<em>do</em> have some time to spare, after a-“</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was stopped mid-sentence when Adelaide suddenly brought a finger up and smushed it against his lips. Her head tilted to the side, her impish grin as pronounced as ever.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ssssssh. Say no more, Carl.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He couldn’t, even if he wanted to—her finger slipped away from his lips, only to have her hands drawn up to his face, cupping his jaw. Currents of white-hot electricity paralyzed him, and the heady flavor of her hushed voice as she whispered, “I’ll take care of everything” made it worse.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was caught off guard when he was swiftly shoved—he flailed and yelped from shock, and his calves hit the couch as he stumbled backwards. He tripped, falling on his back against the cushions.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Adelaide giggled at his wide-eyed stupor. “Stay put. This shouldn’t take long.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Within minutes, she had retrieved her duffel bag from his kitchen and passed through the living room again towards the bathroom. Only when he heard the door shutting did Carl let out a breath of relief, the tension of the last few minutes gone with Adelaide temporarily out of sight. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>What...what in the hell was that all about? There was no mistaking what she was doing, but that didn’t spell out the <em>why.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>Did she think that she’d get him crack, to show his hand that he’d been keeping under his best showing of platonic indifference about her for years? If so, what gave her an inkling that there was more to his feelings than he was letting on?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Did she catch him smiling at her with longing when he thought she wasn’t looking?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Could she see the tender implications behind his “reluctant” hugs?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Were his nonchalant “you look fine” compliments not convincing whenever she asked him for his opinion on a new look?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Had she possessed the ability to peer into people’s dreams all along and had done so to see that she was the center of his wildest ones, full of lustful intimacy and unquenchable passion?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And what of Adelaide herself? Was there more to her ploy than simple pragmatism or was this her way of closing the gap between two halves that longed to come together and be truly whole?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wished he had an eternity—both to hope for the best conclusion and to figure out the most logical outcome—but it was wishful thinking, especially when he heard the slight shuffle of a foot lightly stamping against his floor an earshot away. His limbs locked in ridged tension, knowing what it meant.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You know what’s funny, Carl?” he heard Adelaide call out to him to his left.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He had presumed that she had gone into his bathroom when she left him, and that only made Carl all the more curious as to what Adelaide could’ve been up to. But as he turned his head in the direction of her voice, he immediately knew why she needed to go there.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Besides its obvious uses, a bathroom made a useful changing room, too.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I always thought you really liked ballet,” Adelaide said with hands on her hips, her spell on him as tight as the lycra fabric of her black ballet leotard that now laid snug across her torso like a second skin.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The spills of golden-purple mid-afternoon sunlight pooled over her body through the living room windows, making the dips and swells of her well-toned form glaringly obvious—though the curve of her scintillating smile was perhaps the sauciest part. Her usual pair of leggings were gone, and the bare expanse of her milky thighs—patched with faint spreads of pink across the skin and lithe muscle underneath—had Carl blushing and fidgeting nervously. She was red in the face, too, a fiery strip of scarlet burning through her cheeks and over the bridge of her pert nose.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tightness banded in his chest again and it soon spread like a virus, namely through his crotch. He was helpless to keep the front of his pants from tilting forward, intruded by the thick, burning evidence of his arousal. He watched anxiously as Adelaide’s gaze flitted down to that exact area—the gleam in her buck teeth shone bright as her smile grew. She started to approach him, her walk and tilt of her hips slow...<em>deliberate</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I mean, why else would you be watching me practice my dancing?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The shame of being found out barely registered within Carl’s overtaxed nerves. By now, all five-foot-four of her was towering over him as he gazed up at her. She locked her eyes with his, the gravity of her heated stare crippling his motor neurons and rendering him a still, heavy breathing block of wood. She broke away to look down at his lap, her eyebrow raised archly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s not ballet itself...” She stepped in between his legs, then slowly swung both of them to each side of his hips. She brought herself down, settling nicely on his lap and filling his vision with her chest, her face...her knowing grin. “Maybe it’s me?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl gulped, eyes widened. “How did yo-“</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Mirrors, Carl. <em>Mirrors</em>. Dance studios tend to be full of them.” He felt her shift on his groin, and he barely contained a hiss as the buck of her hips ground the pliable surface of her butt against his groin. “They let me see my form, my poise...and friends who don’t do a very good job of subtly perving on me when I’m bending over.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>An amused sense of respect, from acknowledgement of her “sleuth work”, shone on Carl’s flushed face like the gleam of a waxed car. It was like one of those moments in his life where, instead of getting salty at the online trash talker for giving them a one-sided beat down in an FPS online campaign, he’d have to tip his hat for a job well done, despite himself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Busted, huh?” he muttered through a sheepish grin, and he couldn’t avoid his eyes being pulled down to her breasts again. His hands, which had been balled into shaky fists at his side, dared to unfurl and gently clutch her by the waist.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Damn right,” Adelaide said before she purred in the back of her throat at Carl’s hands kneading her through the lycra. “It’s okay, though. Sometimes, I made sure to do it when I noticed you were watching me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl froze, mouth agape. Even after everything that she had done and had allowed him to do, it was still difficult to think of Adelaide as a vixen of blatant sexual cunning instead of a quirky cutie pie who didn’t know just how hot she was.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Adelaide let out an airy laugh. “Yes, Carl. I like you, too. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but you’re the sweetest dork I know. You’ve always been. How could I not fall for you and your boyish dimples?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl had a good chuckle himself. “The dimples, huh? Not my machismo?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Nah. That’s the part that makes you a dork. A cute one, though, so make sure you keep it up.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They both shared a laugh, and it was then that Carl realized how at ease he was now. Having Adelaide, practically bare besides a body-hugging leotard, in his lap was still a thrill that fueled him with a deviant glow that felt like every inch of him was dipped in divine ether but he no longer had to repress those feelings. He grinned goofily at her, and he didn’t retract it despite the teasing way her eyebrow lifted up at his candor.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Wow,” he breathed out in a dazed sigh.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What?” Adelaide asked.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Some reward, yeah? The babe I’ve had my eye on for years digs me back. Thanks for letting me know.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her eyelids drooped half-mast, the sultry smokiness of her stare flaring up the sweet sensations already coursing through his veins like venom.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh no, Carl. That’s not your reward,” she said, leaning forward until the skin of their foreheads met and her warm breath tickled his lips. “See, as it turns out, ballet isn’t the only type of dancing I’m good at. I’ve been practicing at it for a few months, and now I think I can give a pretty zesty lap dance.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carl spluttered and nearly choked on his own saliva. Despite everything that had happened, he could hardly register Adelaide, <em>his</em> Adelaide, as someone who could be associated with such a symbol of promiscuity.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Not that he was complaining.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It was gonna be your birthday present, but I had to do <em>something</em> to get you to be my assistant again.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The burning feeling in his crotch shot up to a fever pitch again as she rolled her hips again, leaving him breathless in just a few slow, wide rotations. Her dainty fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, as she murmured, “So I was thinking that after my lesson, we can come back here and I can show you everything I’ve learned.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A moan broke through her smirk before she added, “I can keep the leotard on for that, if you want.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The hypnotic swirl in her eyes couldn’t keep him from looking down and watching as her breasts smushed into his chest with each of her thrusts. Her legs clamped around his own, thighs pressing into him through his pants. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He couldn’t imagine her in anything sexier.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Y-yes, please,” he replied with shaky breath.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Good. Now do me a favor...” She stopped grinding and lifted herself up slightly. Then, without warning, she pushed herself down again, and his breath exploded in a loud gasp as her butt was pushed squarely into crotch. “...and take care of that, please. Let’s not scar the kids for life.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He could only nod and watch as Adelaide, tipsy from passion, pecked him on the lips, drunkenly stumbled off of him—her feet landing on the floor but her legs wobbling like a newborn deer on ice. She shuffled over to the bathroom and called out, over her shoulder, “See you there. Class starts at 2.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>With that, she took her duffel bag and walked out, leaving a breathless Carl Casagrande to consider the best ten minutes of his life and come to one solid conclusion: Sunday really <em>was</em> the Lord’s day.</p>
</div>
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